What If
by laurydory
Summary: What if our favourite MASH personnel had never gone to Korea? What path would their lives have taken? Would they be different people? What if...
1. November, 1950

Lorraine Blake is going to kill the next person who tells her to calm down. She's been through this before. She knows what it all entails and quite frankly she figures she has every right to be a little vocal in sharing her pain. That's the problem with having a bunch of men running the show. Sure they might have read a lot of textbooks and delivered countless babies but not one of them can begin to imagine what it feels like to force a new life into this world. Of course this is one new life that doesn't need much forcing. The little tyke is in no small rush.

"You're doing great, Mrs. Blake." The nurse holding her hand is another story. Sister Arnold is in her fifties with a round, friendly face and slightly wild grey-brown hair. No doubt she has ten children with a pack of grandkids piling up too. Plus she hasn't once said calm down. That is more than enough to ingratiate her to the mother-to-be. "We're going to need you to push again."

"Damn Henry! Damn him." Despite the cursing, Lorraine wishes her husband was here looking goofy and losing his head. You'd think a pregnant wife would be enough of an excuse for him to stay home. How could they expect her to do this alone? It was all men. A man had gotten her pregnant, it had been men who had taken her husband away right when she needed him the most and now a bunch of men hover around her, pretending to be useful while she does all the work.

"I hate men!"

"I've said the same thing many a time. Six to be exact." The older woman squeezes her hand reassuringly. Six, ten. Close enough. "Push now Mrs. Blake."

Calm down, push. Push, calm down. Is that all anyone can say?

-x-

Lorraine is exhausted. Six hours of labour. Not long considering but long enough for a woman her age. She lies in her bed, a dishevelled, sweaty mess, and watches the sun set. Briefly, she wonders if Henry is witnessing the same scene.

"Honey?" There's her answer. He enters the room looking even more sheepish than she had expected. Still in his fishing clothes and wringing his raggedy old hat between his hands. Catching a finger on one of the flies, he winces and sucks frantically on the digit.

"Serves you right. Imagine going fishing when you're wife is nine months pregnant." If only Henry was more assertive, it wouldn't have mattered that 'Tony planned this for ages'. It's not as though his impending fatherhood was a surprise either. Damn the big oaf for looking so cute. She can't stay mad at him for long. "Come here." Taking his finger, shesurveys the damage. "Nothing serious. I mean, really. I've never understood how you can fiddle around inside hundreds of patients and still lose it at the sight of your own blood."

"I'm so sorry, honey. About being late I mean. I came as soon as I got your sister's message. I've never driven so fast. In fact, you should be glad I'm here at all. I nearly got myself killed on the trip home."

"I _am_ glad you're here." Her thoughts turn unexpectedly to Marla Brenton at the country club whose husband went to Korea and never came back. Lorraine leans against her own spouse with a sudden rush of possessiveness. She doesn't want to let him go anywhere, ever again.

There is a light knock on the door and Sister Arnold enters, carrying a tiny bundle.

"Doctor Blake. Glad you could make it. I'd like you to meet your son." Her dark eyes twinkle with humour as she hands the baby to his beaming father before leaving the room.

"A little boy? Gee, that's swell. A boy Lorraine!" Henry cuddles the child to his breast, love shining in his eyes. "Barely a few hours old and you're already getting me into trouble by turning up a week early."

"Apparently he doesn't take after his dad."

Henry kisses his wife's forehead and squeezes onto the bed next to her. The two proud parents watch their son doze.

"What should we call him?"

"Andrew."

"Well hello, Andrew. It sure is nice to meet you. My name is Henry but you can call me daddy."


	2. April, 1951

"How was your day?"

Trapper doesn't know why she always asks this. She never really wants an answer. Perhaps that's why he stubbornly gives her one. "Rotten. We have a new Chief. Pompous, conceited and totally arrogant. Comes from one of those self-absorbed 'aristocratic' families. The jerk thinks he's akin to royalty. And he's a damn good surgeon too, which only makes it worse."

"Hmm…" She's not listening to a word he says. Soft feminine hands knead the tension out of his neck. "Is that good?"

"Yeah, it's alright." Usually he loves this kind of treatment. Especially when the soft hands are replaced by even softer lips. Goosebumps run down his back at the touch of her breath behind his ear, but he is irritated and not in the mood to be consoled. Well, that's not strictly true. He is more than irritated, he's disturbed. And he wants more than anything to be consoled but knows he's not going to find a sympathetic ear here. His infuriating new boss is only a part of the problem. It's the last patient of the day that is really haunting him. The boy was brought in by his hysterical mother after she found him collapsed on the bathroom floor. Nineteen, healthy, fit. Nothing wrong with him. Except the belly full of sedatives that shouldn't be there.

"C'mon baby. You're making me feel like an annoying little insect here."

"You are." He immediately regrets his cruel tone. "You're a mosquito; a very sexy mosquito. Keep sucking my blood."

Mollified, she giggles and returns to her task. Fingers running down his arms seductively, she gives no more thought to his foul mood. If only he could give no more thought to it too. The whole thing just doesn't seem right though. Why should a healthy young man want to hurt himself. Nothing wrong at home, no financial problems. Popular with the girls. Popular full stop. Was it an accident?

"Lie down." He succumbs to the order. Normally, Trapper's the one bossing her around but he's not in the mood to argue. One delicate hand traces the hollow of his neck, the other loosening the buttons on his shirt. Her lips find his, trying to force his mind away from work. Away from the kid who took too many sedatives, and not by accident. So what happened? No mortgage, no kids, no wife. Just a nasty scar on his belly and a nastier one in his memories. The kid had left Korea, but it had never left him.

"This is starting to feel awfully one sided." She's sitting up now, pouting at him. "You're supposed to enjoy this. After all, I'm not your wife."

After the day he's had, her thoughtless words are enough to make him snap. Pushing her roughly off his lap, Trapper snatches up his coat and storms out the door, leaving a confused and angry girl sitting on the floor of her apartment with only a loose button to remind her he was ever there.

-x-

Several hours and many drinks later, Trapper creeps through his front door as quietly as his present state permits. He had expected everyone to be in bed so the glow of light from the living room surprises him. Apprehensively entering he finds Louise, wide-awake and waiting for him.

"Look, it's been a long day and I'm tired…"

She holds up her hand to silence him, nerves uncharacteristically catching her voice in her throat. "I'm pregnant."

Bracing himself for confrontation, anger, suspicion, those two words had been the last he'd expected to hear. Could his tired mind be playing tricks? Could Louise be playing tricks? His relationship has been less than perfect of late and Trapper knows he is largely to blame but his wife would never stoop so low. In any case, her face, aglow with the fear and excitement of it all, is answer enough. How could he have missed the signs? And him a doctor too. His brain is working overtime, jumping from thought to thought faster than they can register. What will this mean for his marriage? Will they need a bigger house? Is the baby really his? Could it be a boy? Imagine if it was a little boy.

"Say something." She takes a nervous step towards him and he takes three towards her, crushing her to his chest and burying his face in her hair.

"That's wonderful. That's so wonderful." Delivering bad news is always hard and today had been especially so. There are no words to fix what is already lost and no-one to blame. Or at least no-one the kid's family can put a name or a face to. That young man didn't get a second chance but Trapper has one now and he intends to embrace it with the entirety of his being.

The McIntyres stay knotted together, both crying quietly into the other's shoulder. Louise can no doubt smell the other woman on his clothes, feel the missing button. She doesn't ask him where he's been. They both know he'd lie about it anyway. He doesn't tell her. He's here now and that's what matters.

**AN: As some of you know, I lost most of my files when my computer unceremoniously shuffled off this mortal coil. As a result, updates will probably be quite slow for a little while but I'll keep at it as best I can. Hope you liked this one anyway and all reviews are kindly welcomed. :)**


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